:Author's Note: Well, please do tell me what you think.

:Disclaimer: I don't own POTO, but you know that.

:Thanks to: Lady-Miranda-Van-Tassel, Gerardphantomhot (aw, thanks for your loverly message! It's nice to hear how much this story is a cliffhanger, lol) and Incapability (isn't he evil?) for reviewing the last chapter!

Thanks to everybody for keeping track to this story and reading it. I hope I won't disappoint you!

:Beta-reader: Lady-Miranda-Van-Tassel

:The Empty Cage:

:Chapter 6 – La frayeur n'est rien morte:

I walked down the hallway consciously slowly and stopped at a door. She had grown a lot in the past two months, my little daughter. I always knew she could make it.

"Good night, Madame Giry", the nursmaid said, turning around to me to give me the baby. I reached out for it and took it, smiling down at my precious child. She was the only thing God had given me – and I wanted to keep it. "She's fine, isn't she?"

"Yes, Madame Giry," she gave back. "Meg eats a lot."

"I already thought so. She needs to grow and get stronger." I touched her little ears, watching her sleep in my arms. "She is amiable. You're amiable, Meg, did you hear me?" I lightly rocked her. "I just wanted to take another look at her before I'd go to sleep." The nursmaid nodded. "How is her leg? Does she move it?"

"Not yet, Madame Giry. Those things take time," she answered, but I could hear pity in her voice.

"Well then," I looked at her again, taking a deep breath to tear my thoughts from her, "I have some business to attend to." I gave Meg back to the nursemaid, not without feeling a little stich in my heart. Deformed or not, she was my daughter.

I found my husband waiting for me in the bedroom. He was pretending to be lost in thoughts when I stepped in front of him. I patiently waited for any reaction to my presence.

He still didn't look at me. "Antoinette – why did you bring her back?"

"She is our daughter." I felt that I would get furious but nevertheless knew that it was not my place to have that type of feelings. After all, it was me who had caused trouble with bringing Meg back into the house. Monsieur had never wanted to keep the child, but I did. "You'll be proud of her one day."

"And who will marry her?", he asked, finally looking up. "Who will marry such a deformed child? We'll have to keep her in that room for the rest of her life, Antoinette. For the rest of it. Nobody shall ever know she exists."

We had talked about this matter a lot of times and I decided to remain silent. I was thankful enough Monsieur hadn't beaten me for bringing the child back. He stood up and stepped behind me.

"You are to blame for my unhappiness," he breathed into my ear, his hand touching my neck. "You shall make it up to me."

"Yes," I said, "yes…"

"First, by giving birth to a boy." From behind me, he started to open the breeches of my dress. "And secondly, you will do whatever I want you to."

"Monsieur – she is your daughter…"

"Oh!", he snapped and pulled at my corset so violently that I gasped for breath. "Is she?"

I nodded, seeing black spots in front of my eyes. "Monsieur…" He let go of it.

"She is blonde," he hissed, "isn't she?"

"Yes," I whispered, tears running down my cheeks. "Yes, she is."

"I will love the next child," he said, cupped my breasts and pulled me close to him. "And the next one will be mine."

There was no reason for me to object. That night, my husband was not as tender as he had been the nights before we shared the bed. He was obsessed with the thought of becoming a father. Being suave and gentle with me was of no more value to him. Not before I'd give him what he had longed for his whole life.

And I did.

His name would be Michel.

From that day on, Monsieur would be gentle to me again. The love he thought to feel for me came back the second he held Michel in his arms and it would last for the rest of his life. He was so thankful for having his one and only wish fulfilled, nothing could ever destroy his sympathy for me. He apparently forgot about Meg and all his attention was upon Michel. He began to hate the sound of her name, for the more time I spent with her, the more he blamed me for not being with Michel - and I can still recall the look on his face when I asked him to employ a teacher for her. That evening, moreover, would change the rest of my life. Drastically.

"Monsieur, she is already six years old!"

"I know. But what about Michel? Why do you always prefer this deformed bastard?"

"He is only three years old. He couldn't even read if we tried to teach him, he is simply not old enough. Please, Monsieur!" I touched his hand and hoped at least that time my charms would work wonders.

"That would involve telling somebody about her existence!"

I felt tears rushing into my eyes. "She's been in that room for her whole life."

But there was no discussing about Meg. Monsieur would never accept her as being a human. I stared down on my food, feeling sick. I hated those dinners. They were frustrating and lonely. When I think back to those years of my life now, I can say they were the safest ones. But things you do not appreciate greatly enough get stolen too fast.

"We will have a guest for dinner tomorrow."

"A guest who hasn't been here before?" I frowned. Usually, my husband did not tend to change his friends every so often. He was a steady man, and the people who came to see us were always the same ones.

"It's a new gentleman in business. His name is Monsieur Frayeur."

"Will he bring his wife?"

"He does not have one."

"Well, why not? How old is he?"

"He should be a little younger than you are. As I've already said, I do not know much about him. He's got a questionable past, but since he works properly and has money, I cannot see a reason why we should not become friends."

"What do you mean by 'questionable'?" I got a little nervous. I did not want unknown people around the house who may be dangerous for Meg.

"He wears a white mask, so…"